Jukebox
by dreamingfate
Summary: Post-Beneath oneshot, 1960s AU. Sanji finds a new way to tease Zoro. Contains swearing, nudity and dirty thoughts.


**Jukebox**

It was like watching a kid with a new toy, Zoro decided. Sanji had been staring at the bar's brand-new jukebox for nearly half an hour now. Scrutinising the playlist, admiring the chrome finish and the mechanism of the shiny Seeburg machine, and Zoro had just looked on as Sanji gave it a thorough investigation, inspecting all sides of it and figuring it out.

Now the cook stood straight, apparently finally satisfied, and made his first selection. It was followed by as series of clicks and whirs as the jukebox moved the record to the needle, and then the first strains of something decidedly Motown-esque filled the air. Sanji turned back, looking pleased, and walked over to where Zoro was sitting; the table they'd both been drinking at after-hours, before the delivery had arrived.

Sanji's gait was full of strut and playful rhythm as he screwed his eyes shut and sang along at full volume.

_Oh I'm the kinda guy_

_Who is always on the road,_

_Wherever I lay my hat_

_That's my home_

Zoro smiled into his palm and poured the man another Bourbon.

"I like it." Sanji said, standing beside him and taking a sip from the glass as Zoro looked him over, letting Sanji enjoy the moment without interruption.

_I'm the kind of guy that gives the girls the eye_

_Everybody knows_

It made for a good addition to the Sunny, in Zoro's opinion. And this way there could be music in the bar without Sanji needing to be on stage if other things required attention. Like Zoro. But other, less important things too.

There was a pause as the next track whirred into place, and Sanji took the opportunity to light up. Zoro didn't really recognise this one either, but Sanji's body was moving to the rhythm of it in a way that aroused his attention. Slow and...well, sexy. Sanji turned to him slightly, reaching down to cup Zoro's cheek.

_It seems we've stood and talked like this before,_

_We looked at each other in the same way then,_

_But I can't remember where_

_Or when,_

Sanji's voice was wonderfully sultry, but that didn't make Zoro's being serenaded in the middle of the empty bar any less embarrassing. He was about to brush Sanji off until the cook's thumb pushed up against his lips. Then other thoughts filled his mind.

Zoro leant forward and moved to grab Sanji's mobile waist with both hands. The cook shot him a disapproving look and put the tips of his forefingers smoothly but firmly to Zoro's forehead, stopping him in his tracks. "What kind of establishment do you think this is, shit-head?"

"Huh?" Zoro had no idea what Sanji was talking about. His brain was already in his groin, urging his fingers onwards and under Sanji's shirt, below Sanji's waistband, into his-

"Didn't anyone tell you the rules are you're not to touch?"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"I mean," Sanji's hips started to sway, rocking gently side to side under Zoro's aching palms. "You can look all you want, but you're not allowed to touch." Sanji pushed firmly with his fingertips and Zoro relented, sitting back in the chair, heckles risen, cock firming and still none-the-wiser.

And then he realised Sanji had that look; the look that meant Zoro was in trouble, that meant things were about to get messy and broken and all over the place, the look that meant the nearest available surface was about to get cleared and fucked on, the look that set Zoro alight from the inside.

Sanji smirked at him around his cigarette as Zoro watched his hands, those fine, agile, pleasure-dextrous fingers working at the knot in Sanji's own thin black tie, loosening it slowly as Zoro watched, transfixed, pulling it down, down as Sanji's body rode the music. The rhythm was in the cook's shoulders too, now and Zoro could see Sanji's naked frame beneath his clothes, those muscles working slowly, pulling and flexing like when Sanji's body moved under Zoro's caress, urging him on, driving him forward.

The tie was now an un-tie, dangling loosely around the cook's neck as his face goaded Zoro with what he couldn't have. Oh, he'd have it alright, hard and deep and no-holds-barred, but he wasn't allowed it right _now_, for whatever reason Sanji's twisted mind had concocted. Sanji pulled the snake of black silk free from his shirt collar with an agonisingly gradual 'shiff' of fabric-on-fabric, and Zoro understood, felt his eyes widen, watched Sanji's grin grow as he realised Zoro finally knew what was going on.

The cook looped the tie around Zoro's neck and winked provocatively at him, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. Zoro wanted the table cleared of everything except naked Sanji, but enough of him needed to see where this was going to hold that part back, for now. He was about to reach down and relieve some of the uncomfortable tightness at his groin when Sanji tutted at him. "No touching your own either." he scolded. "If you can't behave yourself I'll have to go get the management and have you thrown out."

"And what do I get for behaving myself?"

"Oh, what I wouldn't give for a _gentleman_," Sanji pouted, glancing away melodramatically. But when he looked back, his eyes were full of fight. "You get to watch." he replied, low and sultry.

Sanji pushed his shirt buttons through their button holes, slowly, gradually baring the beautiful pale, warm skin hidden under it as Zoro found himself wondering why they even bothered with clothes at all because in that instant they were nothing more than a hindrance, a barrier between him and the cook that he simply wanted to tear away.

The shirt was untucked and left to hang over Sanji's shoulders like a shrouding instrument of torment. Zoro's eyes languished over what he could see; smooth, stiff muscle beneath porcelain skin that worked as Sanji moved with the music, moved in ways similar to when he was riding Zoro, arching and curving and always precise. Zoro's fingers gripped the arms of the chair like a vice, knuckles turning white as he tried to distract himself from all the thoughts flooding his mind of what he wanted to do to Sanji right now and how easy it would be to do them. This was Sanji's game, and he wasn't allowed.

Sanji swayed, running his hands over his body. Zoro thought he'd been painfully hard before, but that had been nothing. He wanted those to be his hands, wanted to kiss and to bite every inch of the man strip-teasing him like a pro, wanted to make him wet and suck him dry.

Sanji stepped closer to him, between his legs so Zoro had to spread his thighs wider. Sanji raised a knee against Zoro's groin and he almost jerked the chair over in surprise.

"Feeling tense, sir?"

"Fuck you, I thought you said there was no touching!" he gasped, watching the cook's knee gently rub his groin.

"I said _you _couldn't touch.Didn't say I couldn't. Oh, I love this song."

And then, somehow, things were infinitely worse. Zoro had seen women strip, had seen the transfixed look on the men's faces as they watched but hadn't really understood the appeal until right now. He understood why it was sexy, sure; following the lines and curves of a body as it swayed and twisted for your approval, tantalisingly and forever out of reach like the wisps of a forgotten dream upon waking.

Watching someone Zoro already knew intimately do it to wind him up on purpose, presenting him with what he'd already had over and over and telling him he wasn't allowed until Sanji said so, running his fingers over places Zoro had touched a thousand times, pressing against skin he knew was like warm silk to touch and saying he couldn't have it through lips that had kissed Zoro's own...well, that was a different matter altogether.

_The pain in my heart_

_Just won't let me sleep_

The want was overpowering now, Zoro's gaze ravishing Sanji in ways his hands only wished they could, roving over every part of him as he moved and swayed to the sultry rhythm of the song filling the thick air between them, a flashed hint of brown nipple enough to make Zoro wet.

Zoro wanted to touch. He wanted to touch so badly...

Sanji's pretty lips mouthed the lyrics like they worked sweet around Zoro's cock, the cook's eyes closed as his hands travelled south, palms running flat down to his groin, and up his neck into his hair and Zoro realised Sanji was hard too, practically salivating at the thought of him, desperate to get a taste of him.

_Said I want you to love me love me love me, _

_baby, until I get enough_

Sanji was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen, all over again. He hadn't thought it possible. Zoro needed to push inside of him, to be driving hard into him as Sanji's powerful legs clamped strong and tight around him.

Sanji turned his back to Zoro, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, peering over at him, allowing the shirt to linger at the crooks of his elbows then finally dropping it into Zoro's lap. It was like a vestige of Zoro's fantasy had fallen into reality, forcing his mind to accept what he was seeing as concrete and physical. He took up the shirt with both hands, relishing the warmth still in it from Sanji's hot, flexing body, and breathed in the scent from it.

The shirt smelled of sweat and sex and _Sanji _and sprouted new spurs of lust in Zoro's groin. Those lithe, working back muscles. That knowing grin. That _beyond fantastic_ ass. Zoro was just about pulling the arms off the chair in order to stay put.

"I have the horrible feeling you could have made a living out of this professionally." he said, voice husky.

"Oh, maybe I still could." Sanji said in a sing-song voice, knocking Zoro's legs together and straddling him but not touching, being very careful not to touch, not to tip the balance and force Zoro to lose self-control just yet. He was close. So very, very close and Zoro could feel the heat coming off him, could smell the deep, visceral scent of musk and Bourbon and cigarettes. Sanji's thumbs plunged down below his own waistline, pushing his trousers lower and lower until the dark crest of curls at his groin was revealed. "Think you could share me?"

Even the thought stoked Zoro with murderous intent. "Not a fucking chance."

And suddenly they were both upright, Sanji grunting in surprise as Zoro hoisted him up and slinging his arms around Zoro's shoulders for support. Zoro finally had him, had him and couldn't wait a moment longer. He was breaking the rules but he didn't care. The shit-cook could punish him if he wanted, Zoro could take it. He craned to meet Sanji's lips, but the cook was still being frustratingly obstinate, still teasing him, flexing in Zoro's arms and running quick fingers up into Zoro's hair.

Zoro ran a hand along the stiff underside of Sanji's thigh. Those legs, those deadly weapons, were clamped around Zoro's hips, just like he'd wanted. If they spent any longer in the bar, things would not end well.

"Where," Zoro managed.

"There's a sofa in the store room,"

"I honest-to-god don't know if I can make it that far," he muttered, moving towards the door to the back as fast as possible through the maze of chairs and tables, trying his hardest not to think about the way Sanji was rubbing against him or the movement of Sanji's hands as they began stripping him, unbuttoning his waistcoat and starting on his shirt.

"Is your willpower that poor?"

"Such a fucking smart-ass; I'm going to screw you to within an inch of your goddamn life,"

"After all that you'd fucking better, asshole."

And with that they left the floor to Otis Redding.

Zoro lay back on the couch, still entirely naked, watching Sanji rescue various pieces of their clothing from around the room. They'd made one hell of a mess, but as this was the bar's general dumping ground it wasn't hugely noticeable. A couple of piles of books knocked over and a broken lamp; not too bad, all things considered. He looked down at his relaxed cock. They'd had to do it twice in the end to settle things, and _damn_ if Sanji didn't know his way around Zoro's ass now.

Sanji bent down in front of him to retrieve a stray sock, and Zoro decided to give the glorious view a playful slap. The glorious view wasn't amused but too sated to make him suffer for it, and all he got was a look that told him he'd pay for that later.

Without a doubt, that jukebox was the best damn gift Zoro had ever given anyone.

Playlist for anyone interested:

Marvin Gaye – Wherever I Lay My Hat

Ketty Lester – Where or When

Otis Redding – Pain in My Heart


End file.
